


Faith

by inusagi



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Abbadon, Character Death, Episode: s01e13 End of Days, Gen, M/M, Religion, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto thinks about Jack and faith. Post-End of Days.  Day 5 of the TW-July one shot challenge. Oneshot. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Torchwood is owned by the BBC. And this first bit of dialogue comes directly from the show, so I’ll be taking no credit there.

I was reading from the Bible, apprehension coiling in my stomach. "And I heard but did not understand and I said, 'Master, what is the End of all these things?' And he said, 'Go, Daniel, for the things are closed up and sealed until the end of time.' Daniel 12, verse 10.”  
  
Gwen’s face was etched with all the worry I felt. “Sounds a bit close for comfort.”

“This machine’s on the blink. Keeps losing power,” Owen cut in, holding his shoulder and fiddling with Jack’s freaky hand in a jar. What little guilt I felt over shooting him vanished into the ether. “Sorry, don’t let me stop your portents of doom. Or have you finished?”

“No, plenty more where that came from,” I put the Bible aside and picked up another dusty tome. “Abbadon, the Great Devourer, who’ll lead the world into shadow—“

Jack cut me off sharply, coming out of his office. He was agitated, though. I could tell. “Yeah, thanks Ianto. I can do without the superstition. You people love any story that denies the randomness of existence.”

I shot him a look. “Thanks. That makes me feel better.”

***.*.***

Of course, it didn’t. Jack’s words did nothing to make me feel better and it was all downhill from there. The last couple of days had been hectic, to say the least. This was the first time I’d had even a moment to breathe. Owen sent Tosh and me both home for some sleep. I came here, instead, to the little chapel my mam dragged me to every Sunday of my youth.

The Great Devourer, indeed. He was devoured hundreds of innocent lives before over-indulging on Jack...Jack who was now dead in the morgue, with Gwen standing vigil like a grieving widow. I want to believe that he’ll have another miraculous recovery, pick himself up by the bootstraps and carry on as though he hadn’t been killed by a massive demon.

_“You people love any story that denies the randomness of existence.”_

I could see where he had been...hesitant to put stock into any of it, with everything they’d seen. Aliens, advanced technology, cannibalistic villagers, even that bloke who changed his body every few years and had two hearts. He’d died and resurrected, travelled in time and space. He was entitled to be doubtful.

But all of those things...those mad, unbelievable things...were exactly why I couldn’t make myself turn away. I’d seen a demon. A demon that had been mentioned _specifically_ in the Bible and seemed to rip the soul right out of the body. How was I meant to look upon that and think “Nah, you were right, Jack. Of course there’s no God.”

So I sat here, watching the priest float from one frightened parishioner to another, giving advice and comfort. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen another person here at this time of night, but then the last time I’d found myself sitting on these pews was after Lisa...died. I wondered now, as I wondered then, whether God would forgive him if I tricked the priest into the Hub to give Jack his Last Rites. Somehow, I didn’t think Retconning a man of the cloth would be considered particularly forgivable. I hoped, though, that once I was gone, someone would do it for me. I made a mental note to ask Gwen about it. She’d be the most likely and that bleeding heart of hers would have to come in handy sometime.

After deciding not to smuggle Father Daffyd into our secret alien base, I went back to praying for Jack to wake. He’d done it before—Gwen claimed he’d done it more than just the once, even. So I prayed. I pleaded. I promised God I’d come to Mass every Sunday for the rest of my life, put a thousand quid in to collection plate and give up coffee for Lent, if he would just give Jack back to me.

And _that_ made me feel better.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Today’s prompt was “Faith.” I’m not really religious, but Ianto always struck me as a guy with a religious background. The only one I’m really familiar with is Catholicism, so that’s what he got!


End file.
